


I'm Your Huckleberry, Darling

by Healah



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Arthur and Charles both have praise kinks but Arthur specifically has a massive praise kink, Arthur blushes an absurd amount in this fic but I can't help it! blushy Arthur ftw, Arthur has self esteem issues, Begging, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Drug Use, Dutch and Hosea just want the best for Arthur and who wouldn't, Hair-pulling, Idiots in Love, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Romantic Tension, Teasing, Trans Arthur Morgan, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex, trans author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 06:00:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28346523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Healah/pseuds/Healah
Summary: Charles and Arthur decide to wind down on a hunting trip the best way they know how.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	I'm Your Huckleberry, Darling

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all, just wanted to say that this is basically a major projection fic and that I use both typically masculine and feminine words for Arthur's genitalia, like "dick, cock, pussy," etc. I personally like to use these words because I think they're a hell of a lot hotter than "hole," but I just wanted to make that clear so transmasc people who are dysphoric about these terms can avoid this fic.
> 
> The time line for this story is also different than canon. Charles has been with the gang for almost 2 years when they arrive at the Heartlands and he and Arthur have been in a pseudo relationship for like half a year.  
> I haven't decided yet, but I may make this a series and write a short prequel.
> 
> Title is inspired by the movie "Tombstone" :>

It started out innocently enough.

He and Charles had just needed to get out of camp. Ever since they had all packed what few possessions they owned and high-tailed it out of Colter, there had been a lingering tension. Their most recent encounter with the O’Driscolls and that fiasco in Blackwater, not to mention the increasingly present, looming threat of the Pinkertons, did nothing for anybody’s nerves. And it certainly didn’t help that they seemed to be pushing further and further to the East, instead of towards wild, open country in the West.

They were all still adjusting to their new campsite, too. Mrs. Grimshaw wasted no time putting the girls to work, and though the country was good, and the land they’d chosen for themselves was decently well hidden and secure, they knew this was all temporary and that before long they’d be on the run again, as always. This time, though, no one was sure they’d be able to get out of it the way they always seemed to before. The air around camp had shifted, and not for the better. Arthur could tell the rope was about to snap, no matter how pretty Dutch talked about departing to greener pastures where they’d finally escape the law, and all the things they’d done that could stand to be forgotten about.

Karen and Tilly fought with Mrs. Grimshaw at least every other day, Karen especially, and by their second week here everyone was accustomed to Mrs. Grimshaw screaming about something or the other she thought those lazy, good-for-nothing girls did. Reverend Swanson seemed to be more taken with the morphine than usual, Pearson was constantly moaning to Arthur about the quality of the meat he brought in, as if he could do better, and Uncle was, as usual, about as useful as a glass hammer. To make matters worse, they were almost completely out of supplies and now they had to deal with the presence of an O’Driscoll in their midst.

And then there was Ms. Adler.

Initially, Arthur hadn’t thought too much about her. Sure, he felt sorry for her, just like pretty much everyone else did. They knew what had in all likelihood happened to her, but they all had the good graces to keep their mouths shut about it, even Micah, though Arthur doubted he would be so considerate if not for Dutch’s watchful eyes. Still, the fact remained that she was just a stranger with a lot of bad luck that they just happened to run into. It was silently assumed that she’d stay with them until they made it out of the mountains ( _if_ they made it out of the mountains), then leave once they found a town to drop her off at.

The dice of fate had rolled, however, and Ms. Adler had stayed with them. Almost immediately, the image Arthur had of her as a delicate widow in mourning was shattered. She was… terrifying, to put it lightly, like hellfire incarnate. He didn’t speak with her much, but he saw her hovering at the edges of camp like a ghost, talking to almost no one but Abigail. A part of Arthur felt like he should try to help her assimilate into the gang, maybe even offer her some comfort, but he knew all too intimately what that kind of pain felt like and suspected she wouldn’t take kindly to his intruding into her business at all. If she wasn’t being soothed by Abigail, all she did, every day, was stare at that O’Driscoll boy, Duffy something or the other.

She always looked beyond murderous. A few times, Arthur caught her right up in his face, hissing ineligibly at him, her hands balled up into fists. Once, Arthur even saw her spit on him on the way to her tent, just as Arthur left to go on night watch.

If he was being frank, he sometimes went to bed wondering whether or not that boy would be alive the next day.

All this to say, though, that Arthur was reaching his limit for camp bullshittery. Charles didn’t say anything, but nevertheless he could tell they both needed a break. Not to mention the fact that it had been over two weeks since he and Charles had a silent moment together. He missed New Austin, missed the little hiding spots beneath the western sky they’d carved out together. Missed everything about the calm, empty desert and the way he felt when he got to exist in it with Charles.

They couldn’t go near West Elizabeth anytime soon if they didn’t want a noose around their necks, so Arthur supposed he would just have to be content making new memories on the Heartland plains. He’d been having particularly sweet thoughts about that, lately. Riding away from everything that had happened to them the past month and disappearing into those grassy hills, where there were no Pinkertons, no angry widows, and no Dutch. Just Charles, good-hearted Charles who was teaching him how to hunt and who was pretty much one of the only people in camp he knew for certain had his back, every time.

So, they left to go on a hunting trip. He didn’t have anything to say against it, but Arthur could tell Dutch was not pleased that some of his two best guns would be absent for the next few days. Arthur had felt a sharp pang of guilt in his stomach when he told Dutch they would be indisposed – Dutch always had a way of making Arthur feel like he wasn’t doing enough without actually saying much of anything. That particular feeling made him uncomfortable enough, but even Dutch’s passive disapproval wasn’t enough to curb his ache for Charles.

They packed up the next day, just as the sun started to rise. It was a quiet morning and for the most part they didn’t talk, simply enjoyed each other’s presence as the rode across the plains in search of deer, or pronghorns. Unfortunately, the land was just as silent as they were, and they eventually decided to break and set up camp in a somewhat secluded part of the valley, dotted with blossoming peonies and right beside a big, half-rotten old log.

Arthur sighed dramatically as he collapsed on the dirt, his back aching a little in protest. In an odd kind of way, he felt more relaxed than he had in days, with the hot sun beating down on his brow, his body so bone-achingly tired that if he laid down Arthur didn’t know if he’d ever get back up again. He fanned his face with his hat and wiped at the sweat beading on his face, leaning back against the log.

From the corner of his eye he saw Charles glance at him as he adjusted Taima’s saddle. “Tired?” He asked, the amusement clear in his voice.

Arthur snorted in response. “I don’t think I’ve slept a solid night since we got here, nor anyone else for that matter. Lord knows if I’m ever feeling sorry for myself all I gotta do is ask Tilly what fool’s errand Mrs. Grimshaw put her on in the middle of the night just so she can have some excuse or other to yell at her, then suddenly I realize I don’t have it so bad.”

“Never a dull moment.”

“Uh huh. Karen can’t take much more. Nor can I, for that matter. I remember how she was like that with me when she first joined us, course eventually I grew up enough that I could start robbing with Hosea and Dutch that she laid off a little bit. I fear the girls don’t have much of a choice in the matter, though.”

Arthur looked up as Charles walked over. He folded his arms and a mischievous glint glimmered in his eyes.

“I’m sorry to remind you,” he said in a tone that made Arthur decidedly sure he was _not_ sorry, “but wasn’t it just yesterday that Mrs. Grimshaw took you by the ear yelling something about how dirty you were, then slapped you and made you wash yourself in the middle of camp?”

Immediately, Arthur felt his face go red. Yes, Susan had literally taken him by the ear, but, well. That was just how she was. She cared for them all in her own very, very brutal way. She’d been sort of a mother to him like that since the day he met her as a scrawny teenager. He guessed old habits died hard.

“Hey now, I said she laid off, not that she stopped.” His chest tightened a little when Charles sat down beside him and rested his head on his shoulder. He breathed out, tried to release the tension in his muscles. “We’ll all be old and gray and she’ll still be mothering us like we’re a bunch of kids.”

“I never said it was a bad thing.” He murmured into Arthur’s shirt. “If I had to smell you for another day I probably would have put your head down the water barrel, too.”

“Shut up,” he said halfheartedly. “I’m a working man, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Just because you’re a working man doesn’t mean you have to smell like one.”

“Well, if you find my _natural odor_ —” Charles rolled his eyes “—so offensive, by all means don’t go sticking your face in my shirt. We wouldn’t want his highness to gag on my horrendous stench, now would we?”

“Stop being so dramatic, Arthur.” Almost like a punishment, Charles detached himself from Arthur and leaned back against the log, stretching his arms and yawning. Not for the first time, Arthur felt a warmth spread through his chest, heart fluttering as if it held a caged bird. It was moments like these that made Arthur truly appreciate Charles. The casual intimacy, the easy trust, seemed to come so naturally to them. They moved around each other like they had been doing it for years.

Perhaps Charles noticed the tenderness in Arthur’s eyes, because he smiled in a way that was almost shy and gave him a short, quick kiss on his cheek.

He was silent for a heartbeat, then said, “I’ll still love you, no matter how much you stink. I draw the line if you stop washing your ass, though.”

Arthur knew he was grinning like a fool, but he couldn’t help it. Didn’t think he wanted to help it. Again, his heart flipped in his chest and he could feel his face burn, and not just from the sun.

“So you _do_ love me?”

“Against my better judgement, yes.” Charles brushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear, a small smile on his face, despite his cutting words. Arthur had noticed it was a habit of his, when he was nervous. He was one of the most stoic men Arthur had ever met, but he was unexpectedly also one of the gentlest. It hurt, sometimes, how good Charles was. Made him wonder what it was he saw in him, but made him want to be better, too.

“Ahw, he does love me!” Arthur laughed, climbing halfway into Charles’ lap and rubbing his face where Charles’ neck and jawline met. He could feel Charles tense a little at the touch, but relax when Arthur grabbed his hand, rubbing calming circles into his palm. Simple, affectionate touches between them had been awkward at first, but as time passed they started to feel comforting, instead of alien.

Delight gripped him when he felt an arm settle around his waist, pulling him in closer. There was just the barest amount of distance between them and the anticipation drove Arthur insane. He wanted to sink into Charles’ embrace, wanted to feel the rhythm of their chests beating together. Kiss him, hold him, please him.

Arthur wanted to devour him.

As usual, Charles got there before he did. “Oh, be quiet and kiss me, you fool,” he murmured, low and deep, and Arthur broke.

“yessir,” he said, planting both hands on Charles’ shoulders, diving down to kiss him, unable to act like he hadn’t hungered for this every day since Colter.

The first kiss was slow, but deep. He could taste the coffee Charles had drank that morning, bitter on his lips. He closed the gap between them and settled his waist fully against Charles, goosebumps pricking at his skin when he felt Charles groan a little at the contact.

It felt _good_ beyond description how easily they fell into each other. If he wasn’t so drunk on Charles Arthur might have been embarrassed to admit it, but he felt happy and… safe, he supposed, when they were together. An unusual feeling for someone like him, something he’d only experienced a few times in his life. With Mary and Eliza and with Hosea, too, each in different ways. He felt seen as a person, a man. He had no idea when they’d started feeling this way, all he knew was that he wanted. And when Arthur wanted, he wanted with everything he had.

Daringly, Arthur nipped at Charles’ bottom lip, desire unfolding inside him as Charles reciprocated, parting his mouth to allow Arthur better access. Arthur fought against the urge to pick up the pace, but it wasn’t long before he lost that particular battle. He broke away from Charles’ mouth and shifted in his lap, running his tongue over the scar on Charles’ face, who retaliated by gently biting his jawline.

Arthur bit the inside of his cheek, hard. The teasing he knew he would have to endure if he started whining when Charles hadn’t even undressed him would be unbearable. A wave of arousal hit him like a train at the thought of everything he so desperately wanted Charles to do to him. Charles, with Arthur’s neck between his teeth, sucking and licking every part of his body until he reached that increasingly hot, wet place between his legs.

What would Charles do first, if they both ever lost control the way some deep, carnal part of Arthur wanted them to? Would he be a gentleman like he always was with him and suck him off in the plains in full daylight, until he came? Would he finger and tease him and whisper dirty things in his ear that were reserved only for him? Or would he do none of those things and simply lay him out and fuck him on his hands and knees?

He couldn’t take it anymore, teasing be damned. He crushed Charles against the log and rolled his hips hard against him, grinning a shit-eating grin when he saw Charles’ face go slack in surprise, a loud moan escaping him as his hands clung to Arthur’s waist, like he was holding on for dear life.

“Enjoying yourself, Mr. Smith?” he panted as a half-hard cock brushed against his thigh. No matter how many sleepless nights they spent together, Arthur would always love to see the way he could completely undo Charles with enough well-placed words or, more often, well-placed hands.

Those sweet, sweet sounds were still falling from Charles’ lips like honey, egging Arthur on. “You’re awful at being coy,” he breathed, giving him a pointed look. “We’re not even going to pretend like we’ll get anything done today? If you wanted to be alone with me you could have just said so, instead of acting like we were going out hunting. Or at least told me beforehand.”

“What, you mad I didn’t?” he asked, feigning innocence while continuing to thrust against him.

A smirk split across Charles’ handsome face, and goddamn if that didn’t go _directly_ to his dick.

“Of course not. Dutch won’t be happy if we come back without anything to show for it, though. I’m pretty sure he’s got some idea we don’t just “hunt” when we disappear for days at a time.” He paused. “To be honest, I don’t want to have that conversation with him anytime soon.”

“Dutch won’t do nothin’ about it,” Arthur said, a little surprised Charles brought it up. “He can suspect all he wants, as long as I’m not slacking off he won’t say a damn thing. He already knows I’m, well,” he gestured significantly at his torso, “he won’t care that you’re sleeping around with some nasty, degenerate outlaw, ’stead of some high-society lady with ribbons in her hair.”

“That I somehow don’t doubt. Hey.” he grabbed Arthur’s wrist as he moved to slide his hand up Charles’ shirt. “Before you start, I have a present.”

“For little old me? You shouldn’t have,” Arthur drawled, but curiosity got the better of him and he reluctantly removed himself from Charles’ lap as he scooted over to the satchel he’d had tossed a few feet away. He rummaged around in it for a few second before pulling out what looked like a cigarette and a box of matches and shuffled back over until he and Arthur were sitting directly across from each other.

Charles reached for Arthur’s arm and put the matchbox and cigarette in the palm of his hand. Arthur grinned when it became apparent why Charles gave him what had at first appeared to be some plain old cigar like it was something special.

“For us.”

“Well, look at that,” Arthur said, holding the reefer up to the sunlight and carefully rolling it between his thumb and forefinger as he inspected it, “Been a while since I’ve smoked one of these. Guess you get so used to scavenging booze off O’Driscoll corpses you forget it ain’t the only thing in the world.”

Arthur glanced at Charles as he put the joint between his teeth, as if waiting for his protests. Upon receiving none, he grabbed his ankle and lit the match against the bottom of his boot, shifting himself into a more comfortable position on the hard, dusty soil beneath him.

He puffed experimentally before inhaling, hard. Arthur had always been more of a whiskey man himself and predictably underestimated his tolerance when it came to drugs, so it was no surprise when he started hacking something fierce, smoke burning the back of his throat.

“ _Jesus_ , that’s the strong stuff!” he wheezed, coughing into his fist as he passed the reefer to Charles. “Where the hell did you get that?”

“Band of idiots tried to rob me a few days after we set up camp, maybe a half hour or so north of Valentine,” replied Charles casually. He paused to inhale and Arthur could see him visibly droop, an easy, relaxed expression dawning on his face. “Obviously, I searched them afterwards. Didn’t have much, but I found one of their stashes. A couple of joints they already rolled and some hemp.”

Arthur chuckled, voice still a little hoarse, and scooted backwards until he hit the log.

“Bet that’s the last mistake those fools ever made.”

“I’d say so, seeing as they’re probably vulture feed by now.” Charles delicately tapped away the burnt hemp and raised his eyebrows as Arthur continued to cough under his breath. Wordlessly, he tossed Arthur his canteen, who caught it and immediately gulped it down, not caring about the water trailing down his stubble when he felt the sting in his throat ease.

He pretended not to notice Charles staring at his adam’s apple bob as he drank, or the slick still coating his inner thighs, thick in the heavy Spring heat. Something between embarrassment and lust warred in his hazy mind and Arthur cursed his low tolerance when the ground started spinning.

“You good, old man?”

Arthur spluttered. “Wha— old man? That’s awful cheeky, considering you haven’t even run with us for two years. Need I remind you there’s a chain of command round here?”

“Nearly two years, in a month or so,” corrected Charles. His face was carefully neutral, but mirth shown in his eyes as he passed the roach back to Arthur, who took it grudgingly. “And don’t get so defensive, I’m just looking out for the elderly. Weak lungs and such.”

“Is that so? I’ve passed out in a ditch and had one foot in the grave because of drink more times than I care to remember. I can handle a little smoke—”

“Then prove it,” Charles interrupted and the sudden, distinct sharpness of his tone gave Arthur pause. The air around them shifted and he could feel that damned heat taking hold of his gut.

Charles crawled towards Arthur until they were mere inches apart, and something about the way he moved just reminded Arthur of a stalking wildcat, lying in wait until the perfect moment to pounce. It hadn’t even been ten minutes, but he could already see his eyes turning red.

“Finish the joint and I’ll give you another present,” he practically purred, and for Arthur, that was enough.

“You spoil me,” Arthur said, but lit another match and breathed in (more carefully, this time), releasing all the stress that had accumulated in recent weeks as he exhaled, not breaking eye contact with Charles the whole time. They were locked in a game of chicken and there was no way Arthur was going to lose.

He took a hit, and another, and another, until the reefer was half gone. He forced down a sudden, sharp spike of mindless anxiety as his heart rate elevated and a heady fog descended over him. Pride aside, he was starting to feel sick and he wouldn’t be doing himself any favors if he threw up before he even got the chance to put his hands all over Charles.

“No, no I think I’m done,” he grunted, smoke still in his mouth, relenting as he shoved the joint back to Charles.

Immediately, Charles took one last, hard drag, decimating almost half of what remained. He sniggered when he saw Arthur’s jaw drop, stubbing the roach into the dirt and flicking it onto his satchel a few inches away.

“I win.”

“Now that… that ain’t fair, Charles,” Arthur slurred. His high was creeping up on him, pushing persistently against his skull. Normally, the plains would have been silent, but now his heightened senses seemed to detect everything. Grasshoppers chirping in the weeds, a flock of geese singing as they flew miles above them in the sky. He hummed and closed his eyes as a cool breeze rushed across his perspiring face. He’d forgotten just how good a high could be, how small he became when he felt the Earth breathe around him, an ancient feeling he had long since forgotten about.

It was like lightning struck him when Charles’ lips pressed against his cheek, and he couldn’t help but sigh as Charles slowly placed open-mouthed kisses on his face, trailing down until he reached his neck. Charles paused, mouth pressed onto skin, then flicked his tongue against Arthur, increasing his pace when Arthur hissed. Wrapping his arms around Arthur’s torso and pulling them together until they were chest-to-chest, he continued his administrations, gently biting and sucking Arthur’s pulse as though trying to taste his heartbeat.

Everything was too much and too little. He felt almost animalistic, unraveled by Charles’ smell, like dewberries, by the way they were pushing into each other until Arthur was suffocated by their weight. His head pounded and he became suddenly aware of how utterly, shamelessly _loud_ he was being. His eyes shot open as Charles bit particularly hard at his clavicle and he was blinded by sunshine, the world a dancing, hazy mess of color and light.

He was losing control fast. In a desperate attempt to ground himself, he wrapped a hand in Charles’ hair and gently, but firmly, removed him from his neck until they were looking into each other’s faces. If anything, Charles looked as dazed as he felt, eyes half-closed and red, his mouth parted like he’d forgotten it wasn’t still on Arthur’s skin.

Arthur wanted to tell him a million things, then. Things he doubted he would ever be able to articulate. How he always had something to look forward to whenever he knew they’d be together, how he trusted him, how he never felt this way about any man before, how he was finally realizing he was a fool that was falling in love. Most of all, how he was sorry he couldn’t be the man Charles deserved.

But he said none of those things, settling instead on ribbing him, like he always did when it really mattered.

“It’s bad to go back on your promises.” He felt like someone shot an arrow through his heart, the way Charles’ expression went from contented to confused. “I didn’t finish the reefer.”

Realization slowly dawned on his face. “I don’t need an excuse to kiss you,” Charles said, blinking at him like he was surprised at his own frankness. It was gone in a flash, however, replaced by desire.

“Besides, you can repay me another way.”

His breath hitched in his throat. He _hated_ how badly he was struggling to put together a coherent thought, hated how abruptly dread flooded in and it seemed like the world was going to end if he couldn’t figure out the right thing to say.

“Goddamnit, Charles,” he bit out. “I don’t—”

“Shhh,” Charles said. He shifted against him and, not of his own volition, Arthur’s fingers unwound themselves from his hair. Their noses brushed as Charles kissed him, slow and deep.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured against his lips. Inviting.

“…Okay,” Arthur finally said, eyes closing as Charles kissed him again. Hands were undoing the front of his summer shirt and his breathing stuttered when Charles pressed his palm against the middle of his bare chest. For a moment, they both stared at each other, waiting for the other one to make the next move.

Wordlessly, Arthur closed his hand around Charles’ wrist and slid his hand over until it was fully cupping his chest. It was… good, he supposed, being able to be so vulnerable with Charles. A year ago, he would never have let a man touch him like this, or a woman, for that matter. But it was different with Charles. He didn’t have to be afraid of his own body when they were together, was certain Charles wouldn’t think less of him just because he knew the most intimate parts of Arthur.

The absolutely sinful look that Charles was giving him didn’t hurt either.

Charles wasted no time. He dropped further down on knees until he was almost laying down and peppered kisses against his chest. His skin was on fire and Arthur didn’t know how much more he could take. He was just about to tell Charles to _hurry the hell up_ when he felt his nipple being engulfed by Charles’ warm mouth. The sight of Charles sucking on him like a lollipop was more than enough to distract his foggy mind from those less than pleasant, ashamed feelings he sometimes had during sex. Right now, all he could think about was how much he wanted Charles. Everything else simply melted away.

Charles teased Arthur between his teeth and they both moaned, shamelessly. The hand on the small of Arthur’s back wandered, slipping beneath his pants to grip at his ass. In response, Arthur took Charles by the waist and slammed their hips together, pleased beyond measure when he felt that Charles was already rock hard.

“Arthur—” Charles gasped against his chest, bucking into him as his fingers dug into Arthur’s flesh with almost bruising force.

“Yes?” he said, sweetly as he could muster. It must have worked because Charles immediately picked up the pace, rutting hard and fast directly between Arthur’s thighs.

“You’re so wet I can feel it through your jeans,” Charles hissed through gritted teeth. “Missed you so much. At the party, after we got Sean back, I wanted to fuck you so bad when you asked, still don’t know why I didn’t.”

Arthur’s lips curled into a smile. He remembered that night – everyone in camp, excluding dependable Charles, who was out on guard duty, was piss drunk. Drink tended to bring out the loneliness in Arthur, so he’d slunk away from the celebrations and hunted down Charles, hoping they could find some comfort in each other’s company. Sadly, Charles had turned him down, pointing out that Arthur was about one drink short of blacking out and besides, who knew if someone would come stumbling through the bushes and see something they really did not need to see.

“Heh. I’ve been lonely without you, but maybe it was a bad idea, in, uh, hindsight,” he slurred. Charles was looking up at him with an expression almost akin to wonderment and Arthur knew he had to shoot his shot before he shattered completely.

He looped his arms around Charles’ wide back, lifting his hips so he could wrap his legs around him. “Do you still want to fuck me?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Then bend me over and fuck me, cowboy.”

Before he knew what had happened, he was face down in the grass and Charles was pulling his boots off, then his belt and pants, until he was stripped down to his shirt and undergarments. Shock kept him chained to the ground like an anchor, limbs useless as jelly.

He choked when he felt two fingers against his crotch, which quickly became moans when Charles started rubbing his dick.

“Guess you weren’t lying about being lonely,” Arthur heard Charles say from behind him as he humped himself against Charles’ hand.

Arthur couldn’t even think of a response to that. Of course, he’d touched himself in private moments, but it felt like ages since someone else put their hands on him like this. He groaned when Charles finally removed his underwear, squirming as the breeze hit him between the legs.

“Get on your knees for me, Arthur?” Charles asked, so softly, and Arthur couldn’t have said no to him even if he wanted to.

He wheezed a little as he adjusted himself on shaky legs, putting his ass up in the air and crossing his arms beneath his head.

Although he couldn’t see him, he could feel Charles inspecting him from behind. Arthur’s breathing was heavy with anticipation. A bead of sweat dripped down the bridge of his nose and suddenly he felt hands on his asscheeks, spreading him apart.

He couldn’t help it; he gasped when Charles’ tongue flicked against his cunt. His entire body vibrated in ecstasy when Charles hummed against him, licking experimentally from the base of his cock to the back of his hole.

Charles set the pace. Hands still firmly on his backside, he rotated between sucking his lips, lapping at his dick, and sticking his tongue inside him. Arthur had never felt so damn dirty in his life, ass-up and facedown in the dirt, in what might as well have been in plain sight of anyone who so happened to stumble across them.

But he’d also never felt so good. The more time he spent with Charles, the more he realized that he not only liked, but _loved_ when Charles was the one in control. They were about evenly matched in terms of strength and size, but Arthur wasn’t entirely confident he would be able to win in a fight against Charles. And deep down, a part of him was excited by that. He knew beyond a doubt that Charles would never hurt him, he was far too kind for that, but also knowing that Charles was one of the few people alive who could pin him down and make him stay there did… something to him.

“Please…” he groaned. He couldn’t think straight – the world was hazy around him, the smell of the grass beneath him too sharp, the sky too blue. He was trapped in a loop, where all that existed was the vastness of the wilderness and Charles.

“Want your fingers in me. Please.” He repeated.

Charles removed his mouth with a soft “pop” that sent shivers up Arthur’s spine.

“Whatever you want.”

A finger moved to replace Charles’ tongue, teasing his swollen dick before slowly penetrating him. He heard Charles sigh at how little resistance he was met with and smugness swelled in him, which was quickly forgotten about when another finger slipped inside.

“You’re doing so good,” Charles whispered, curling his fingers inside Arthur and steadily pushing in and out of him. He knew he was blushing something fierce, but Arthur didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything except stuffing more of those fingers inside him and, with any luck, Charles’ cock.

A pressure was starting to build and he practically sobbed when Charles abruptly slid his fingers out, only to pull back his hood with his thumb and forefinger and jerk him off.

How pitiful he knew he must look right now, moaning like a slut as Charles serviced him, legs shaky and knees aching from being pushed into the hard ground. His nerves were shot and he knew he was about to cum, if Charles kept moving his hand just right like that—

“Stop, stop.”

Immediately, Charles moved his hand away, placing it on his hip to steady him, and Arthur almost whined at the abrupt lack of contact.

“You okay?” Charles asked, the concern in his voice making Arthur’s heart hurt.

“Yeah,” he grunted. He hadn’t meant for it to come out so breathy and needy, but he just couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“I just…” Arthur struggled to find the words to explain that he wanted Charles to rail him into next week. Finally, he decided the direct approach was the best.

Glancing behind him, he inched backwards until his ass made contact with Charles’ hard on. Instantly, Charles’ grip on him tightened and Arthur bit his forearm to muffle the rising moan in his throat.

“Do you want me to put it in?” said Charles, and he sounded so lecherous, so certain that he knew Arthur wanted it that Arthur could have just died right then and there.

He’d had just about enough of being teased.

“You know I do. Now, you gonna fuck me or am I gonna have to pin your ass down and do all the work myself?”

Charles laughed in that husky, stupidly sexy way of his, and Arthur’s excitement shot through the roof when Charles pulled himself out of his pants and lined his cock up against his entrance.

He pushed in, the tip just barely inside Arthur. Above him, Charles sighed in pleasure, slowly rocking his hips back and forth, digging just a little deeper with every movement.

“You’re so tight, Arthur.”

Arthur could only moan in response. Even when they had sex, Charles always treated him like he was something precious. Always praising him, being so sweet with him. The perfect gentleman.

“Mmm. Go faster.”

“Like… this?” breathed Charles, and in one decisive movement pushed himself in fully. Arthur choked at his boldness, then whimpered as Charles fucked him harder. He didn’t think he could put into words just how much he’d missed this, even if he wasn’t high off his ass and incapable of stringing together a coherent thought, anyway. The rhythm between them was so natural, so blissful that Arthur couldn’t believe they hadn’t always been this intimate.

And he’d forgotten how _big_ Charles was.

As if reading his mind, Charles thrusted into him particularly hard, and Arthur dropped his guard and whined, loud. He didn’t need to see Charles’ face to know he was grinning like a damn fool, always did when he had Arthur under him like this.

“You’re being such a good boy for me,” Charles panted, clearly unravelling as their hips slapped together, sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout Arthur’s entire body. Arthur couldn’t think, could barely breathe. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized a hand had slipped just below his ribcage, sliding torturously slow over his belly until it rested, unmoving, above his hard dick. “Love that I’m the only person who gets to see you like this. Acting all hard and tough until you get my mouth on your cock and my dick inside you.”

The proud part of Arthur wants to protest, to wrestle out from beneath Charles and take him the way he’s being taken now and prove he isn’t such an easy lay. But the other part of Arthur that is reminded of how much he enjoys feeling Charles on top of him wins out, and Arthur does nothing but continue to pant as Charles fucks him into the dirt.

That goddamn hand is still hovering right on his bush, the touch of Charles’ thick fingers intoxicatingly close. Despite the other hand still clutching his waist, he started to rut forward, desperately seeking relief. The feeling of Charles in his pussy is good, so good, but it isn’t enough.

He growled when Charles stopped him, keeping him firmly in place.

“Ask nicely and I’ll rub you off.”

“ _Charles_ ,” he groaned, teeth gritted so hard he feels like they’ll shatter along with the rest of him.

“Please, Arthur? Do it for me?”

He caved.

“Please rub me off, Charles, I’m so close, I—”

He didn’t get the chance to finish blathering when Charles finally reached into his heated arousal. Arthur bucked desperately into the welcome hand at the same time that Charles fucked into him, hitting a bundle of excited nerves within him, and the combined sensations were just too much. He came embarrassingly fast, gasping as a shudder overtook him, limbs locked in place. Vaguely, he felt himself tighten around Charles, certainly heard Charles’ pleasure as he suddenly pulled out and started jerking himself off.

In the haze of his orgasm, Arthur lifted himself off shaky knees and turned, stumbling a little as he fell into Charles.

“Wait,” he said, gripping Charles’ forearm. “Let me help you with that.”

Charles didn’t need to be told twice. Immediately, he spread his legs, allowing Arthur to move comfortably between them, dark eyes hungrily watching Arthur’s every movement as he ran his fingers through the hair on Charles’ thighs. Arthur considered giving Charles a taste of his own medicine, about reducing him to a begging, sobbing mess, but the sight alone of Charles so eagerly open for him is enough to change his mind.

Charles’ eyes followed him as he bent down, cock twitching as Arthur’s breath ghosted over his head. Without breaking eye contact, Arthur licked the tip of his dick, smiling when Charles gasped, lifting his hips so that his hard member just barely pushed against Arthur’s half-open lips.

Deciding that it would be cruel to make Charles wait any longer, Arthur took the whole of him into his mouth in one decisive movement. Charles moaned unabashedly, grabbing a fistful of Arthur’s blonde hair. Arthur allowed himself to be led down, panting as he adjusted to Charles’ size. There was something just a little bit… different about the way he tasted. Something Arthur didn’t know how to describe. Tangy and sharp and positively delectable, a minute distinction from what Arthur was used to that he doubted he’d even notice it if he were sober.

It dawned on him that what he tasted was himself, spent all over Charles. The realization was enough to make him achingly hard all over again and he sucked around Charles as hard as possible, bobbing his head at a steady pace while running his tongue down the underside of his cock.

He barely had time to process Charles whining his name before he came in Arthur’s mouth, the taste of him salty and hot on his tongue. He looked up, saw Charles looking right back at him, desperate and doe-eyed, and slowly licked his length, applying as much pressure as possible before he sucked Charles dry. The hand fisted in his hair loosened its hold when Arthur pulled himself off Charles’s dick, lightly teasing his head between his teeth as he went. He felt Charles tremble under him even as he adjusted, spitting Charles’s cum on the ground and bonelessly collapsing onto his chest.

Exhaustion settled over Arthur like a heavy blanket as Charles wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. He could feel Charles’ chest rise and fall as his low, heavy breathing began to even out, could hear his heart thrum as Arthur buried his face into his shirt. It had been so long since someone else’s heartbeat had managed to put him so at ease that he’d forgotten how much he missed it. He closed his eyes and blocked out all the small, unimportant noises of the world around them and thought of Charles, and Charles only.

Arthur didn’t know how long they stayed in each other’s arms. Eternity could have passed and it would have meant nothing to him. The sun could stop shining and the Earth could swallow them whole and remake them into something entirely new for all he cared, as long as Charles stayed with him, here, in endless prairies with only willowy weeds and prickling cacti to disturb their solitude.

He sighed when Charles’ hand drifted from between his shoulderblades to the hair on his nape, sliding slowly up the back of his head to thread his hair between his fingers. He practically melted when Charles started massaging his skull, groaning as Charles dragged his fingernails against his skin and softly pulled at his hair.

“Mmm… shut up,” he grumbled, not even bothering to open his eyes. He didn’t need to see Charles to know he was smirking at him once again, no doubt pleased at how easily he was riling Arthur up.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Arthur tsked and tried to sneer as he peaked an eye open to look Charles in the face, but he just couldn’t manage pretending when he was enjoying Charles’ touch so much. Lord knows he had never been a romantic man, but gazing up at Charles with a halo of sunshine around his head, surrounded by his scent, humbled by the touch of his hands on his nearly naked, scarred, ugly body, he could think only of a night they’d spent together, months ago. Their first night, near the water’s edge at Lake Don Julio.

He had seen the reflection of a thousand shimmering stars against the lake’s surface, as though it were a massive, black mirror. Charles was waist-high in the lake, bent over as he squeezed water droplets from his long, silken black hair. Arthur still couldn’t explain why, but in that moment he knew that Charles had meant every kind word he’d ever said to him, meant all the small, stolen kisses they’d shared behind closed doors. Something shifted and Arthur knew he could trust him, so he took him that night and since then things had never been the same. Mostly, their interactions were friendly, but the dynamic between them had shifted, and as much as Arthur tried to deny it, he knew Charles was falling in love with him just as much as he was falling in love with Charles.

He wondered if he would ever get to see the privilege of Charles bathed in the moonlight like that again.

Arthur was very abruptly brought back down to Earth when he felt another tug on his skull, more persistent this time. Another moan slipped unbidden through his lips and he fought to ignore the rising heat in his face.

“You didn’t have to say nothin’.”

Charles’ eyes sparkled with mirth and Arthur tried hard to ignore the backflips his stomach did when he noticed him bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling. Gravity pulled him to Charles as though he were the blazing sun, and Arthur a lonely planet unwittingly launched into his orbit. He pushed himself up on shaky elbows until his face was inches away from Charles’, the rhythm of his own heart picking up again as Charles’ chest beat furiously against his.

“You should… Hmm…” Charles hummed as Arthur kissed him. “…stop projecting onto me.”

“You make it too easy,” said Arthur lowly, continuing to lightly kiss Charles as he slowly slid his hips down, rocking himself against Charles’ dick. Charles made a breathy little sound, and Arthur didn’t hesitate to take advantage of the neck Charles bore to him.

Having all of Charles’ strength underneath him, compliant and wanting, made him feel like the most powerful man alive. He dug his teeth into Charles’ skin before he felt that goddamn hand in his hair again, pulling him up so that he was staring into Charles’ dilated, hungry eyes.

“Ride me, Arthur? Please?”

Arthur chuckled, pressing a long, hard kiss to Charles’ cheek before straightening up in his lap. He shrugged his shirt off his shoulders and started undressing Charles, feeling his arousal spike with a vengeance when he planted his hands on Charles’ exposed, well-muscled pecs. Instantly, Charles threw his head back, hair splayed around budding dandelions, and pushed their hips together so that Arthur bounced up slightly, grinning.

“I’m your huckleberry, darling.”

* * *

They stayed out on the grasslands for another two days and, this time, actually managed to pull together a decent haul, even if Charles had no qualms about distracting Arthur the entire time. Two deer, one of each strapped to both of their horses, and a few rabbits they’d picked off on the ride back to camp.

They would have stayed for another day, but the skies were dark and cloudy and there was the scent of rain in the air, and neither of them wanted to get caught up in what looked like what would be a particularly nasty storm.

Besides, Arthur had pointed out with a smirk, there would always be time for more “hunting trips.”

Camp was quiet when they rode in, for once, but the sun had barely risen and Arthur had been living with this band of degenerates long enough to know not to count his eggs before they hatched.

Arthur hitched his horse and made to offload the deer, but stopped when he felt the weight of Charles’ hand on his shoulder blade.

“If you report to Dutch, I’ll take the deer to Pearson.”

“You sure?” asked Arthur, blinking. Charles was a capable man, but the thought of him putting in all the work made his guts squirm with an uncomfortable, guilty feeling.

“Yes. I’d rather endure another one of Pearson’s Navy stories than have to deal with Dutch this early in the morning.”

The guilt instantly dissolved and Arthur snickered. “And here I thought you were being all gentleman-like, offering to do all the work like that. Fine, I see how it is. You go butcher the meat and I’ll see if Dutch is up yet.”

“Sounds good. See you later, Arthur.”

“Alright, I’ll be seeing you,” Arthur responded, and he wants to say more, God does he need to say more, but he hesitates too long and Charles has already turned his back on him, hefting a deer over his shoulder. All he could think about was how confused he was, how he desperately wanted to ask Charles if he was experiencing the same turmoil as Arthur. Cursing his cowardice, he turned and headed towards Dutch’s tent.

The man in question was already awake, though he looked exhausted as he usually did these days, his mouth sit in a grim line and the bags under his eyes dark and heavy looking. He was sitting in his chair outside his tent and reading, a fat cigar hanging between his lips.

He looked up wearily as Arthur approached, though his eyes seemed to brighten a bit when he saw it was just him. He snapped his book shut, beckoning him over.

“Arthur! How did you get on?”

“Fine,” he said as he moved to stand in front of Dutch. “Caught a few deer and some rabbits. Not much, but it should be enough to get us through the week, probably longer.”

“Excellent, I’ve had just about enough of old Pearson’s nagging. If Ms. O’Shea wasn’t bad enough, he and Strauss have been on my back the past few days, trying to get me out and about. Or trying to get you out and about, I should say. Speaking of which, Strauss wants to speak with you, when you have the time. Something to do about some debtors.”

Arthur grit his teeth. He’d done a lot of bad things in his life, and he supposed he would only continue to do more bad things until he dropped, but nothing plucked at his guilty conscience quite like beating some poor, desperate bastard within an inch of his life, only to have the gall to basically rob him right after.

“I’ll speak with him, but only if you’re asking. I still don’t know why you didn’t just pick up some regular old crook or other, ’stead of some greenhorn accountant you found from God only knows where.”

“We need money and Strauss brings in money, even if his methods are just a tad…” he waved his cigar around airily, “undignified. In a few months it won’t matter and we’ll have enough money to leave this whole mess behind us, anyway.”

“I guess,” muttered Arthur, kicking at the ground. He peered at Dutch from beneath the brim of his hat, puzzled when he saw Dutch staring intently at his neck.

A knowing look spread across Dutch’s face as he leaned back against his chair, grinning.

“You and Charles had fun, I take it.”

Arthur stood in silence for a moment, confused as to what on Earth Dutch was talking about. Then, the pieces clicked into place and he internally groaned. Without thinking, his hand shot up to cover what he knew were very visible bite marks peppered all over his neck, no doubt making him look even more suspect than he already did.

Of all the days not to wear his neckerchief. He coughed, forcing his hand down and defensively crossing his arms. And goddamnit, Dutch was still grinning at him like the smuggest bastard in the world. His mind raced as he desperately tried to think of an excuse, some believable explanation as to why his neck was marked up like some two dollar hooker when they both knew the only person he’d seen for days was Charles.

“It weren’t like that,” he said sharply. His face was burning, why, _why_ did he go so red at the worst times? “Charles and I were— I mean, we were just—"

Dutch held up a hand breezily before he could further embarrass himself. “Say no more, my boy, say no more. You could have certainly picked worse.” A truly devilish glint glimmered in his eyes. “But next time I would appreciate it if you just told me you wanted to spend some quality time with your boyfriend. There’s really no need for excuses.”

“He _ain’t_ my—”

“Whatever you say!” he laughed, returning to his book and crossing his legs. He flipped a page and said thoughtfully, “I suppose I owe dear Hosea some money.”

“You bet on me and Charles with Hosea?” he spluttered, feeling himself blush even harder.

“It was all in good fun, Arthur. And you shouldn’t be surprised. The way you two moon over each other I would be quite shocked if half the camp hasn’t already figured it out.”

They both looked up as they heard shouting, a welcome distraction for Arthur quite honestly, and Dutch rolled his eyes when they saw Sean headbutt Micah, yelling at him to stick his head in a lake before he showed him what a real Irishman could do.

“But then again, maybe not,” Dutch said, giving Arthur a significant look. “Do something about that before Sean kills Micah, would you?”

Arthur snorted, feeling some of the heat in his face dissipate. “With any luck…”

“Oh, don’t be like that. We’re all a family now, and family looks out for each other.”

He was too tired and frankly, too mollified by the entire situation to argue with Dutch. At any rate, it really wouldn’t do if Sean actually did skin that sour old bastard right then and there. The smell of blood and pus this early in the morning would put him off his breakfast.

Arthur waved him off and made to turn on his heel, but stopped when Dutch coyly said, “Oh, and Arthur? Make sure to tell Charles he has my blessing.”

Blood thundered in his ears. Having had just about enough, Arthur stomped away, not even deigning to give Dutch the satisfaction of a response. From behind him he heard Dutch yelling at Hosea to _get over here!_ and clenched his fist, walking faster towards the full-out brawl that had exploded when Micah grabbed Sean by his hair and kneed him in the stomach, only for Sean to retaliate by kicking him in the balls.

First Dutch and now this, not to mention whatever headache Strauss had planned for him.

This was going to be a long day.


End file.
